Carys Comma

Dasein

My Daughter,

Of late I have been perusing the writing of a philosopher named Martin Heidegger. I don't understand him. I don't understand much of the words and thoughts penned by the great thinkers. Your father is a simple man. I was raised in Texas rice fields and Michigan swamps.

I have never seen a library that didn't make me pause.

You may never be a book person, and that is okay. I can't help but hope that you will be. I hope one day you can come bounding into my sight reveling in the word-wrought flame of some story or thought. I hope you tell me all about it. But, please know, that as you speak, I won't hear a word you say. For you will be so beautiful and alive that your words will become a mere pretext for your rapturous presence.

Maybe you'll read Hemingway, or Rand. Maybe you'll read the novels of your mother. Maybe you'll read Heidegger.

This Heidegger fellow seems to think that life is less authentic if it is lived without the presence of inescapable end: death. Death is that unwanted companion. I won't mislead you, he is no welcome guest in my life. Yes, I know the dead in Christ shall rise first, but I still don't wish to be among them.

Instead, I prefer to be with you, savoring every moment of a life I love.

The philosopher is right, of course. The moments that pass, pass quickly, and every one that passes brings us closer to the dust of our emanation. So, heed the philosopher, my dear. Grasp with your mind this simple fact: life will not last forever. Cherish every moment, and be grateful for the time that you are given. In doing so, you just might find who you really are.

If I take death into my life, acknowledge it, and face it squarely, I will free myself from the anxiety of death and the pettiness of life - and only then will I be free to become myself.

- Martin Heidegger